Arrogant philosophy is foolish philosophy

Justin E. H. Smith yesterday advanced a thoroughly interesting argument about what he calls philosophy’s western bias. I agree with an alternative approach to the history of philosophy he briefly outlines, where Western and non-Western philosophies are "the regional inflections of a global phenomenon".

Smith draws upon G. W. Leibniz to argue philosophical dominance piggy-backs commercial dominance. Let me make a related point: it's not difficult to find practical examples of the link between commercial innovation and philosophical thought. For instance the idea of time the Buddha proposed when developed the idea of "dependent arising" is absolutely fascinating, partly because it is so different from the concept of past, present and future we all take for granted. The Buddha's 2,500 year old idea about time and reality is very much relevant today because the developers of contemporary video compression codecs utilize techniques like interframe compression that have far more in common with dependent arising than they do with discrete moments of time.


Statue of the Buddha in Tajikistan

Because Western philosophers care so little for South Asian philosophical concepts, unsurprisingly I had to learn about the Buddha's concept of dependent arising from a Sri Lankan philosopher, David Kalupahana.

When Western philosopher ignore or marginalize other philosophical traditions through the mechanisms Smith outlines, it is to our intellectual, cultural and yes commercial impoverishment.

Arrogant philosophy is foolish philosophy.

Rabbi Froman's daughter's wedding

In the second half of 2005 I was doing an internship in Jerusalem as part of my MA in Peace Studies from the Kroc Institute at the University of Notre Dame. It was a fantastic experience and I highly recommend the Kroc program to prospective students. In November of that year I was most fortunate to be invited by Eliyahu McLean to a wedding being held in an Israeli settlement deep in the West Bank in the Occupied Palestinian Territories. One of Rabbi Froman's ten children was being married — one of his daughters.


The bride dances

The wedding turned out to be a magical evening, and not only because it was my first time to attend a Jewish wedding. It was an evening to never forget because the Palestinian religious peacemaker Hajj Ibrahim also came to the wedding — he was delayed and arrived late, but made a grand entrance. Luckily I was able to document some of the evening's events with my camera.


Hajj Ibrahim dances with Rabbi Froman

Earlier that year I'd started to learn the craft of photography. There was a lot to learn! Some aspects have taken me several years to master. I've also had access to better equipment and software than when I started. In the past several weeks I've reprocessed the photos I originally took, improving their look. The first thing to get right was the white balance, and then the color and noise control. The conditions were difficult photographically — like almost all wedding halls, it was dimly lit. I made the choice to make the photos bright and colorful, reflecting how the event felt emotionally.

You can see the photos and the original writeup I penned at the time at a gallery on PBase.

Brief review of the film "A Separation"

A Separation (Persian: Jodaeiye Nader az Simin), directed and written by Asghar Farhadi (2011).

The acting is remarkable and the development of the story is top-notch. But this is not what made me fall for this film. More than any film I can recall, it prompted me to reflect on the ups and downs of life-changing relationships — mine and others. We all make mistakes, and in this film we are brought empathetically but forcefully into a tumultuous period of the characters' lives in which they can't help but make their fair share. In this sense the film is more true-to-life than any other I've seen. We see the characters' decisions and actions, and sometimes it's far from clear whether they derive from a motivation to do what they truly aspire to, or if they are just trying to survive under difficult circumstances. We cannot help but watch compassionately, especially because the film wisely and resolutely refuses to allow us to be swept along by stereotypes, sentimentality or rigid distinctions between good and bad. Instead we come to understand the characters even though we don't understand all that they do. Some of my friends say the film is sad or even depressing, but I disagree. I find it uplifting — I am encouraged by the character's struggle for dignity, and humbled by the double-edged nature of their pride. This is film-making and story-telling of the highest standard.


Tehran street scene (this is not from the film)

Photographing in Iran

Bakhtiari Couple, Chaharmahal and Bakhtiari Province

Somebody recently wrote to me asking for advice about photographing safely in Iran. They wondered if I needed a permit for some of my photographs, and whether my photographic gear was safe.

Iran is a wonderful country in which to photograph. Iran has a thriving photographic community and art scene, with plenty of highly talented photographers producing outstanding work. It has the rural charms of neighboring countries like Pakistan and Tajikistan, and like them, it has a rich and storied history. However in comparison to its neighbors, Iran is arguably more diverse. Its urban centers are wealthier. It has many stunning architectural forms and details. Its poets are famous the world over.


Woman walking, South Tehran

Iran is famous for its beautiful women too. What's there not to like?

Everywhere I've photographed in Iran, I've done so without a sense of inhibition. This has gotten me into conversations with government police and security officials a couple of times in Tehran, but never elsewhere.


Couple on motorcycle, Tehran. This was one of the photos that got me into trouble.

The first time was in 2007, when plainclothes policeman in his mid-20s took exception to my street photography outside a popular cinema in central Tehran. He angrily confronted me in the street and while he didn't speak English, he made it clear he wanted me to accompany him and his colleague in their car. I had absolutely no intention of doing that. With the help of a young woman managing an Internet café, he questioned me for about one hour, letting me go only when he determined that I was a genuine tourist. He claimed I needed a permit to photograph anything other than well-known places in Tehran.

A few weeks later, I spoke with a member of the official tourist police in Isfahan. He spoke fluent English, and in great contrast to the plainclothes policeman, he was a thoroughly nice guy. He said there was no need for a permit, arguing the plainclothes policeman was out of line.


Friday Prayers, Tehran

The only other kind of photographic incident I've had in Iran was in 2008 when I went to photograph the Friday prayers in Tehran. Perhaps whether I was naïve or simply did the right thing, I had no hesitation in wanting to photograph the prayers. As far as I was concerned, I wasn't doing anything out of line. I wasn't a reporter, so I didn't need a journalist's permit. I was merely photographing a public event, like any other. My Iranian companion that day, however, didn't see it that way. She was deeply concerned that the authorities would stop me and possibly detain me, which worried her enormously. After having barely arrived, she was proven correct. Several senior security officials questioned me for some minutes, wanting to know who I was and why was there. After conferring with their higher-ups, they allowed me to photograph the prayers for a few minutes.

In retrospect, I don't think either of these situations were particularly serious. I was probably not in danger of being arrested. Of course, if I had accidentally photographed something of a sensitive military or governmental nature, the situation could have been very different. But that is pretty much the same in many countries these days.

One thing I did not attempt was to photograph police officers arresting or detaining young people for wearing too much makeup or having the wrong kind of hair. From the perspective of documentary-style street photography, these scenes were often compelling and would have made wonderful photographs. However the police officers made it clear that they were totally against such photography. I didn't want to try their patience.

Unfortunately the Iranian justice system can be highly politicized. As is widely documented, innocent people can be detained for long periods while being denied their basic human rights. This fact alone can certainly make oneself cautious. Outside of Tehran, however, it seems to me there is little reason for any special caution. Iran remains a wonderful place in which to photograph.

The death of Jawahar Abu-Rahmah of Bil’in

Noam Sheizaf has written a detailed account of the death of Jawahar Abu-Rahmah at the village of Bil'in.

Poor Ms. Abu-Rahmah was killed by exposure to tear gas during a protest in which she was a bystander — and instead of the Israeli government and Israeli Defense Forces pausing to take a deep breath, and reassess why they protests are occurring, a deluge of shameless lies emerges.


Blind Palestinian villager during protest on September 2, 2005.

I’ve been to Bil’in. This is an audio slideshow of a protest in Bil'in I made in 2005.

The events Mr. Sheizaf describes are very much disturbing — in a way that I cannot quite make rational sense out of. As Mr. Sheizaf suggests, to be killed or wounded in the places where everything is going on — in the middle of the action among the bullets, tear gas and rocks — is not at all surprising. Yet Ms. Abu-Rahmah was standing on a hill, away from central action, and the gas rushed towards her and ultimately killed her. Perhaps it is a kind of metaphor for the unintended consequences of deploying mass violence to repress problems. The gas, carried by the wind, is our foolishness and arrogance, our failure of the imagination, and our greed. We cannot control the wind, and no one in the history of humanity has been able to control all the flow-on effects of choosing violence over nonviolence, repression over dialogue, and arrogance over genuine collaboration between people with differences.

Standing on the shoulders of giants and condemning them

Every once in a while people become recognized for the work they do to help make the lives of marginalized people better. Such people can work tremendously hard—often with the critical help of a substantial number of other people—to improve the lives of others, especially those who are vulnerable. One can think of great feminists, for example, who struggled valiantly for the rights of women everywhere to be fully recognized. They may not have achieved all they wanted in their lifetime, but their contributions to humanity have lived on, and their thought and action has come to touch the lives of many millions of people.

I find it especially aggravating when someone from successor generation attacks the individual leaders, their ideas or the movements they were associated with when they themselves are a beneficiary of that great person's work. Sometimes the criticism comes from the people you would least expect it from, because they are one of the direct beneficiaries.

An obvious example is when young female (and male) university students criticize feminism as an extremist movement in which they want no part. They fail to recognize that it is due to feminism that women are even able to study in universities to begin with. One can say much the same thing about human rights. Some students heavily criticize human rights. Their passion to do so can be particularly strong. They too fail to recognize that without human rights visions such as the idea that everyone has a right to an education, regardless of their background in life, they might not even be at university.

In class I had today, some students vigorously criticized an approach to improving the lives of the poor called "sustainable livelihoods". Dr. Robert Chambers is an academic who has written about this approach. One student was criticizing the approach of Chambers for being an example of when "expert" outsiders go to a location and tell poor people how they should live their lives. In reality, Chambers is famous for critiquing this kind of "expert" knowledge. His 1983 book, "Rural Development : Putting the Last First", deals with precisely this question. The student was unknowingly taking an idea Chambers had articulated some 30 years ago and using it against him and his work. In this instance the student could not possibly have been more wrong in their criticism.

I must confess I struggle to keep my cool in such situations. I tend to become rather emotional and passionate myself in defending the work, ideas or lives of great people in such situations. Personally I need to work harder to have the patience to explain to people that their understanding could very definitely be improved. Obviously something sensitive inside of me is being touched and I feel compelled to respond, and I struggle to do so in a way that is fully respectful of the people I'm in conversation with.

Often my mistake is to not take the time to understand the other person's frame of reference that causes them to be so vigorous in their condemnation. Yet I suspect the same could be said of the critics too. Something inside of them has been touched, and their response is to condemn when they would be better off taking the time to better understand what it is they are condemning. Perhaps they feel compelled to project something onto what they are condemning because deep down they see themselves in it. Rather than critique themselves, they condemn others. Perhaps because they are a beneficiary of the person's work, the feeling they have is even more intense than it otherwise would be.

I'm not entirely sure why the issue makes me so passionate, or exactly what inside of me is being touched. One obvious candidate is a simple sense of fairness, but there must be much more to it than this. Many things in the life are clearly grossly unfair, but it is an extraordinarily rare person who deals with them with a consistent level of passion and commitment. So it cannot simply be a case of "right and wrong". I need to think more about this. Meanwhile, I'll try to be more patient.

Learning Farsi in Isfahan Part 2

Girl with blue ball, Isfahan

After reading my previous blog entry, many people have contacted me requesting information about studying Persian at the University of Isfahan. A common problem is that when emailing the university, it can take a long time to get a response. It is hard to say if this is because of internal bureaucracy or technical difficulties with the university's email system (their IT systems are often unreliable). You can also try iinternationaloffice@yahoo.com (note the two i's at the beginning of the address).

I had intended to study again at the University of Isfahan this summer. Unfortunately I was not issued a student visa. The university claimed I had not sent them an application, which was bizarre, because I certainly did. I was later informed by my academic advisor that when an visa application is declined, instead of saying so, it is considered polite by Iranian officials to say it was not received. The university encouraged me to apply for a tourist visa, but this was neither declined or issued. Instead, the application simply languished.

I was surprised to have my visa application rejected. I had not had significant problems with being issued an Iranian visa in the past. Moreover, I have not engaged in any political activity related to the elections last year. An Englishman who also studied Persian last year was also not issued a visa.


Ahmadinejad looks on, Isfahan

In July I received an email from the university stating "I hereby inform you that the regulation of issuing visa is slightly changed from 4th of July 2010. According to the new rules those visitors who enter Iran with a tourist visa can not apply for short course Persian learning programs and their period of stay will not be extended. Therefore any applicant, who would like to learn Persian, should apply for a student visa (through the Office of International Scientific Cooperation).It is important to note that for this kind of visa, the applicant should apply at least three months prior to travel."

Unfortunately the university has not been forthcoming in providing information as to why a visa was not issued to me earlier this year. The Iranian Embassy in New Zealand was similarly unhelpful. This leaves my research plans in Iran in tatters. I am writing this blog entry in Khujand, Tajikistan. I will likely do my anthropological PhD research in Tajikistan, with a different project to that I had planned in Isfahan.

Many Americans study Persian and Tajik in Dushanbe, where they learn from Iranian teachers. Having not participated in their course, I cannot comment on the quality of the instruction as compared to Isfahan.